A new elephant in the family

Ever since I finished Swede's elephant and gave her away I've been pining to do another one, only in different colors. "What?" you say, "Another finger piercing, tendinitis inducing, eye straining, hand-needlework project?" What can I say to that? I've already allowed the fact that I have a Serious Addiction that Cannot Be Kicked. (It's not like nail biting, and I should know. I was a dedicated nail biter well into my thirties but was able to quit despite all predictions that 'If one does not quit before one is 20, one will ALWAYS be a nail biter.' That is simply not true, and I am proof.)

But this...THIS is far worse. I honestly think it's genetic and hard wired into me (kind of like me being a girl) to the point that if I cannot pet/cut/stitch, fabric or use yarn/thread and hook or needles, I may well perish, and it would not be a pretty sight. I find so much satisfaction, comfort and relaxation when I stitch, be it with a needle and thread, a machine, crochet hook, or even knitting needles, that I cannot imagine life without it. I've been at it so long that I can't remember not doing it. (Just ask my mother.)

Here are a some clues when looking into at how addicted dedicated a stitcher might be.

• How many pairs or scissors does she have? (Ginghers, Dovos, dressmaker, pinking shears, embroidery, snippers etc...and just plain "I had to have them because they're so dang cute!)
• Does she look at scissors still?
• Does she have a special box for each pair?
• Does she wear them?
• Do you see random pins/needles stuck in her collar or her sleeve?
• Can she talk coherently with pins between her lips and without incident?
• How many pincushions? Are they cute? Does she wear them? 
• Are the pins color coded for each one and/or arranged artfully?
• Does she make and give pincushions as gifts?
• Does she buy boxes of pins just in case...?
• How many sewing machines? Boxes of thread (all kinds)? Yarn?
• A special handmade envelope with labeled pockets for each size of crochet hook/knitting needle?
• Has she been known to use knitting needles or crochet hooks as hair ornaments?
• Do you find yourself picking random threads off her clothes?
• And fabric?...Well, usually it's measured in Boxes, Bins, Shelves and that would take another page of questions: one that might concern the difference between Twill, Toile, and Tulle. 

• And, last but not least, does she have a room dedicated to her addiction hobby?

Guilty, Guilty, Guilty...(but not feeling guilty.) I admit it all happily.

So is it any wonder that I would see a new elephant in my future despite the needle pricks, wrist and thumb fatigue, eye strain and the fact that I obviously don't need an elephant, at least not by the standards of your normal non-addicted stitcher?

 So..here he is: My Elephant. This one is a boy as you can see by the very masculine barbed wire-like border and the earthy colors. I love, love, love how he turned out. I just have to get him quilted.

If Sweeble's elephant were anywhere near she would be instantly attracted.

The Romance of Snow

romance of fresh snow...

The quiet falling of lacy snowflakes is mesmerizing, hypnotic, relaxing. Everything inside me tells me it's a miracle that I need to stand quietly still for, and watch with a kind of reverence tinged with awe. Maybe it has something to do with being raised in the desert where the closest thing we had to snow were beige sand dunes, or a long drive into the mountains in the winter for a brief visit. It wasn't practical for a family of desert rats like us to have snow gear so plastic bags over our shoes and socks on our hands had to do, thus the 'brief' visit. After living here in Utah for 21 years now I still get excited about the first snow, and the second, on through Christmas and even January.

I love how it makes things look fresh and new. I love the crunch of it beneath my booted feet when I take night walks through our neighborhood as it falls. My winter breath hangs in the air, a visual manifestation of life, and if cold enough will crystallize into tiny snowflakes and fall, or waft away on the tiniest of frigid breezes. I love to stand beneath a street light and stare up as the tiny flakes descend, making me feel dizzy because it looks like I'm speeding through space, zipping past a zillion stars, but I'm just standing there, staring up into the light, in muffled silence. I love it's natural luminescence and the stark shadows cast by the naked trees. I love how it makes things quiet, and encourages me to slow down and just 'be'.

 There is just something about the Pre-Christmas snow that brings to mind so may nostalgic pictures...

Who can resist the idea of a sleigh ride? All bundled up with a fur muff and lap robe with hot bricks under your feet with the sound of jingling sleigh bells and the soft rhythmic whuff-whuff-whuff of muffled hoof beats in new snow. I write this like I know from experience, but I don't. Thanks to L.M. Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, Charles Dickens and a very vivid and romantic imagination I can tell you all about it though.

What about skating on a frozen pond? Or sledding down a hill?

 

The ultimate romantic picture that most everyone I know secretly treasures is this one:

Seriously...I'm not kidding. I'm a child again so excited that I can hardly breathe with butterflies in my stomach and dreams that can be real.

One of the best parts of winter is dressing for it. Sweaters, scarves, boots, fluffy socks, fun hats, colorful gloves, wool, down, cashmere...red, green gold, blue...ahhh. Winter phrases: Snuggley soft, Cuddle up, Hot Chocolate anyone?...all so friendly and generous. Yes, cold is my choice. Granted, I have central heat and double paned windows and enough quilts to keep the neighborhood warm. I don't have to chop wood, or light the stove first thing in the morning, or send my husband out into the cold to shoot dinner. And I'm grateful for that. Very Grateful. I can love my snow, and my winter in comfort so that the romance is still alive.

I think it's time to make some tea and sip it from my red china teacup. I wonder if I have a lemon...

A change of heart

Gianna Jessen. A baby born under miraculous circumstances on an auspicious day: April 6, 1977. When watching the following video that was posted on Facebook a few days ago I was so deeply touched by her story that it has haunted me since.

PLEASE WATCH! Click below.

http://vimeo.com/5387154

For 16 minutes I was riveted to the screen listening to this woman's testimony. For that is definitely what it was: a testimony of Love, a testimony of Life, A testimony of the power of God.

I was shocked and horrified by the inhumanity forced on her before she was even born. I was ashamed by my own attitude on this subject of abortion. But my primary emotion was awe. Awe for this woman who knows, truly knows who she is and why she was born. I love her honesty, her surety, her willingness to stand for truth without equivocation. I love her unabashed acknowledgment of who she really is: A Child of God. She has the courage to call a spade a "spade" and smile while doing it. Without fear that she might be hated for it. Basically she's saying, "I know what I know. So BRING IT! I'm ready. I can take it, because God is my Father."

I've never been a proponent  of abortion. I believe it to be a heinous practice founded in ignorance, selfishness, and greed. But my shame comes in here - my recent attitude has been that, heinous as it is, abortion has been around for thousands of years and there will continue to be abortions until every knee bows and every tongue confesses that Jesus Is the Christ. I just don't want to pay for in any way, shape for form. I don't want my tax dollars paying for it or even supporting counseling that proposes it as an option except maybe in extreme cases, (rape, incest, life endangerment for the mother) but even then it should be a well considered and prayerful option. In a nutshell: What's going to happen will happen I just don't want to be a part of it.

Talk about the beginnings of a hard heart. After listening to her I literally hung my head and cried.

I don't believe in the opposite stance either! Where clinics are burned  and abortion doctors and staff are targeted for violence. No...but I am ashamed at my backseat detachment. If only more people took to heart the scripture in Psalms 56:11

Autn:reference - http://scriptures.lds.org/ps/56/11#11

                   In God have I put my trust: I will not be afraid what man can do unto me. 

Be not afraid to reverently use His Name in public. Be not afraid to acknowledge Him as The Power In Your Life. Be not afraid to be hated for His name's sake. Be not afraid to be outspoken in defense of truth and right. Be not afraid to judge or condemn actions while still loving those who act.

Love. The most powerful emotion in Creation. For it is through love that all good things are created. Even soft hearts.

I will never speak of abortion in such a casual way again. It's shameful.